PJO Drabbles
by MordredtheMordSith
Summary: Just some PJO oneshots! :D
1. Chapter One: Connor Stoll

We Steal a Gods Motorcycle and Almost Die

Connor Stoll

I'd always been a bit obsessed with motorcycles. Probably because Dad is the god of traveling. But he was also god of thieves, which led to what happened next….

We were in the parking lot at Walmart, just standing by the cart holder thing and watching all the cars go by. Our mom had kicked us out of the house after one of her drunk rants. She'd just gotten out of jail for stealing someone's Cadillac, so we were pretty used to not being around her anyway.

"I'm bored," Travis said to me, spitting on the ground and rubbing it around with the tip of his open-sole Converse.

"Yeah, me too. We need to do something interesting," I said back. Travis and I loved to get in trouble. We'd stolen all kinds of things: TV's, cars, money, even a poodle once. I was itching to steal something else.

"Interesting? I can do interesting," Travis said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Just then a motorcycle came roaring up the parking lot. It was a black Harley Davidson with flames painted along the sides. The seat was made of something that looked like leather, but instead of being black, it was a light color, kind of like skin. There was a shotgun holster on either side of the motorcycle. I _had _to have it.

I guess the glint in my eyes was a bit too noticeable, because when the motorcycle parked next to Travis and me, the man riding it gave me a look and growled, "What are you looking at, punk?"

"Your motorcycle," I said sheepishly.

"And why would you do that?" he asked. He was a scary looking guy, very big and tall. He was wearing all black- combat boots, muscle shirt, and vest. He had these weird black sunglasses on, that seemed to have something red glowing behind them. There was something about this guy that screamed "murder." It scared me, but not enough to not want to steal that motorcycle.

"It's cool," I answered.

"Yeah it is, but don't get any ideas, punk. You look like someone I know who likes to steal things," he said, giving Travis and I the stare-down. Creepy.

"Oh, no, we don't steal things," said Travis surely, without a hint of lying in his voice.

"Yeah, we aren't bad kids," I added.

"Sure, sure. Just don't touch it," he snarled, stalking off to Walmart to buy God knows what.

As soon as he was out of range, I turned to Travis and said-

"We're going to steal it, right?"

"You bet!" Travis exclaimed, hopping onto the cycle and turning it into gear. The motor started to run. "Hop on!"

I got on, and off we took. We rode through the streets, weaving in and out of the cars and going as fast as possible. But the fun didn't last forever.

Suddenly this weird cart-thing showed up behind us, chasing us. It was being pulled by a huge white stallion. Even for New York, this was weird.

"ARES!" the man aboard the chariot screamed at us. He thought we were the man we'd stolen the motorcycle from.

"Travis, what do we do?" I screamed to Travis.

"I don't know!"

We just kept going, still being chased. But the man on the chariot finally caught up with us. He leapt onto the motorcycle and pulled a long stick with snakes wrapped around it out.

"Thought you'd fool me, Ares?" he laughed, until he realized that Travis and I weren't this Ares guy. "Hey! You're not Ares…."

"I know," I said.

All of a sudden we were flying through the air. Travis had lost control of the cycle and we were flying off of the Alexander Hamilton Bridge and into the Harlem River. I thought we were going to die.

Right before we hit the water, the man from the chariot grabbed a hold of us and we were gone, back in the parking lot at Walmart. The man had disappeared.

We ran as fast as we could so we could get away before the Ares guy came back and murdered us.

That was an interesting day, and the first of many others.


	2. Chapter Two: Ethan Nakamura

Kaboom

Ethan Nakamura

I was 13 years old, and it was the start of my 8th grade year. I was at another new school, this being my tenth in five years. The reason for this move was because on the last day of seventh grade at my last school, I'd put a beehive full of bees in some girl's locker. The reason? She'd beaten me in the spelling bee. I guess you could say I have a problem with revenge.

The day hadn't gotten off to a good start; my locker wouldn't open, I couldn't find my classes, and the lunch tasted like crap. Not to mention no one wanted to talk to me, the weird skinny greasy-haired boy. Not until sixth period, when I met Elwood.

Elwood was like me, a bit different. He had a little goatee growing on his chin, and had a limp when he walked. He was a loner.

"Hi, Ethan," he said when I sat down beside him in history class.

"Um…how'd you know my name was Ethan?" I asked, a bit freaked out. I'd never told him my name.

"Oh….well, you just look like an Ethan," he answered awkwardly.

"Yeah, I guess so," I replied, trying not to mess up the one possible friendship I had with the only person who would talk to me.

The teacher, Mr. Belson, came up to the front of the classroom and began taking role. When he came to my name-

"Ethan Nakamura?"

"Here," I said, raising my hand into the air.

"Hey, Ethan, what's up with your hair? Did you fall in a pile of grease?" laughed a boy sitting a few desks behind me. He was obviously a jock, wearing a "Horton High Griffins" football jersey. The whole class laughed along with him, except Elwood, who just gave me a sad look.

"No, I didn't, actually," I said, trying to keep my cool.

"Jonathon, be quiet!" Mr. Belson scolded. He then started teaching the lesson, something about Greek mythology. I didn't pay attention.

A piece of paper came whizzing through the air, hitting me in the back of my head. I turned around to see who it was, and it was none other than jock-boy, Jonathon. I gave him the death stare.

"Trying to scare me?" Jonathon whispered, afraid the teacher would hear.

"Yeah, and it's working isn't it?" I said, never taking my eyes off of him.

"N-no," he said nervously, not so big now. He threw a pencil at me. "Do I look like I'm scared?"

That was it, I snapped. Out of my pocket I took a bomb, and ran from the room.

"Ethan!" Elwood screamed. He seemed like he knew what I was about to do. He chased me out of the room.

I came to the front of the school, burst out the front door and through the bomb into the front entrance. I was expecting a big explosion, but instead came the smell of a thousand skunks. I'd accidentally thrown a stink bomb instead of a real bomb. Way to go, Ethan.

The students all came running out of the school, holding their noses. I laughed.

Elwood came up to me, a serious look on his face.

"I know who you are," he said, out of breath from chasing me.

"What?" I had no idea what he was talking about.

"The son of the Greek god Nemesis!" He gasped.

"What?"


	3. Chapter Three: Charles Beckendorf

I Chase Off the Girl of My Dreams

Charles Beckendorf

Back before I knew I was a demigod, there was this girl I was in love with. Sure, I was young, and I had no idea what love really was, but I honestly thought she was the girl of my dreams. I would have sworn she was the offspring of Aphrodite herself. But, I went and chased her off.

It all started in shop class. I was in sixth grade, and was one of two who knew anything about mechanics and building things. Apoline was the other. She was the only girl in the class, and the fact that she was good with her hands made me go crazy.

"Hey…um, Apoline, got a wrench I can borrow?" I sheepishly asked her. She looked over at me with these perfect blue eyes that looked just like the sea. Her hair was blond and curled. She was tall, her legs long. Every inch of her beautiful.

"You already have one, Charlie!" she giggled, pointing to the wrench laying on the table beside me. _Dang it! _I thought.

"Oh, yeah, I must have forget about it. Silly me!" I spluttered. _Now she thinks you're an idiot! _

"What're you working on?" _At least I didn't scare her off._

"Just a recreation of the Trojan Horse," I said.

"It's really cool! I'm making an _underwater breathing apparatus," _she said with awe.

"Really? I have no idea how to make one, want to teach me?" I asked, even though I really did know how to.

So, Apoline taught me how to make an underwater breathing apparatus. Everything was going perfect so far.

"I saw you talking to _my _girlfriend," snarled Maxamilian Race. Maxamilian was the richest kid in school, his dad basically owned the place. It _was _called Dr. Race high school, after all.

"Last time I checked, she's not actually your girlfriend. According to her you just went out on a few dates," I snapped back. Maxamilian thought that everything he wanted was his, including every pretty girl in school.

"No, she's just saying that. We're trying to keep it a secret," Maxamilian lied.

"Sure, Maxamilian, whatever you say."

"I mean it, Charles. Stay away from her!" Maxamilian stomped off, his Italian leather loafers squeaking.

Back in shop class, it was time for the annual shop competition. I had my Trojan Horse all ready to go. It was going to race around and shoot fire. Pretty impressive for a 6th grader. I had a feeling I was going to win.

"You ready?" I asked Apoline.

"Of course, but my invention is no competition for yours," she said. Maxamilian shot me a look.

"Charles, you first," Mr. Rimm addressed me. I was his pet, and nearly everyone in the class hated me for it. Especially Maxamilian.

I turned on the Trojan Horse, holding it's remote in my hand. I started to turn the remote to make the horse move, but instead it went hawire, dancing all over the place. It started shooting fire in ever direction.

"Mr. Beckendorf, what's going on?" Mr. Rimm asked, used to my perfect contraptions.

"I don't know!" I yelled, rushing to try and fix the horse.

I finally got the Trojan Horse to stop, but not before the damage was done. It had blown fire all over Apoline's apparatus, melting it. She was crying by it, she had worked so hard on it. My heart sunk.

"Apoline…."

She didn't say anything back.

I looked over to Maxamilian, who was holding a pair of scissors in his hands and moving them in a cutting motion, indicating that he had cut one of the wires.

Apoline never talked to me again after that. But then I met Silena, and you know how that relationship turned out. Love sucks.


End file.
